Chapter 74:
Dungeon cores 101
Constantine:
The dungeon cores are sentient! I can’t believe that. If they can speak, why are they turning feral? I ask grandpa Tony all those questions, and he turns grim.
“You have to understand, that dungeon cores are crystals. Very rarely, when they have taken over an entire planet, they can exit the crystal, and take on a form. Most of them, though, never reach that point. If you were a crystal, no hands, no tail, no heartbeat, no chance at love, would you have kept your sanity?” He asks me. Put in that context, being a dungeon core really is not something I’d wish on my worst enemy.
“And, there are always more than one dungeon core on a planet?” Daniel asks next to me. I turn to look at him. “I mean, in adventure novels, dungeon hopping is a thing. You can have as many as ten dungeons, in a valley alone.”
“There is much we don’t know about the dungeon cores,” Thea says, and I blink at that. How could they possibly not know? Haven’t they lived in the New Cosmos for more than 100,000 years?
“But you are practically natives over there now,” my mom asks.
“The dungeon cores appeared after we came. If there were any, before that, they were not doing any terraforming, at the very least,” Thea says. Her eyebrows furrow. “It was bad, at the start. We had food, and we were quick to set up our piece buildings, but there was a time, when we thought that air will become a luxury good.”
“Some of us went back to the Cosmos, to refill air tanks for general use,” Antony says, and a hush falls over the table. “We had to be careful not to be noticed, in the first 100 years. The war was raging. As outnumbered as Earth was, it did manage to hold its ground for 150 years.”
I can see that Daniel straightens up at that. I’d be proud too, if someone told me that my planet fought a war that was no fault of their own until the bitter end.
“History is written by the victors,” Daniel murmurs next to me. “It is the same here, as on Earth.”
“Quite right,” Thea says. I can see that her eyes have a sad look in them. What must be like, for her, to have to face a human after all that time, and tell him of the crimes done on his species?
“But let us go back to the dungeons,” Daniel surprises me with those words. If it were me, I’d want to hear more about the war. I suppose he must want to ask when we are in a more private setting. A cool breeze sweeps through the garden, and I can see Beth shivering.
“Perhaps we can have this conversation inside?” I suggest, worrying about the children, and my grandparents.
“Ok, time to clean the table, folks,” mom says, and then everyone picks up their empty plates and glasses, and begins to head towards the door of the house. The sky is a pleasant indigo color; the stars are already twinkling up above. I wonder whether the stars are the same over the New Cosmos. Or, do they shine in a different light? I imagine blue or red stars, as I pick up my own plate and glass.
The plates don’t all fit in the washing machine, so, I place most of them in the sink. The restaurant doesn’t want them back by tomorrow at eight. If I stay up later than usual, I can have a couple of washing rounds, and pack them up in the morning. With that done, I go to the living room.
Everyone has gathered by the couch, with Thea and Tony sitting on it. I can see that they are all staring at the two ancestors. I sit by Daniel, and he begins to speak.
“So, dungeon cores. What happens when they manage to take on a form?” He asks.
“Well, they stop being connected to their cave, abandoned piece building, or whatever crannies they managed to inhabit. As far as I know, they keep their immortality, and life becomes normal for them,” Tony says, dropping a bombshell on us all.
“Dungeon cores are immortal?” I ask, voicing the question on all our minds.
“Well, yes. They are mana spirits; you know?” Tony says, and then looks at Thea. “You always explain it better, shine some light on them.”
“Dungeon cores are immortal, and, as long as their crystals remain whole, they don’t die. Still, that doesn’t protect them from losing their minds,” Thea says, and then sighs. “Which is a shame. There are no better doctors, than dungeon cores. No better farmers, either. And they have the management skills of the Gods.”
“Is the Great Snake of the Sky a dungeon core, granny?” Noah asks. I blink at that. Could it be? Were there any dungeon cores on the Cosmos, too? Were we just a bunch of rocky planets, before them?
“Could be, we are not certain,” Tony says, as he smiles at the boy. “Just because he might be a dungeon core, doesn’t mean that you don’t have to say grace before eating your dinner.”
“That is right,” Hugo says, wrapping his son in a one-armed hug. “You should be grateful for the food our planet provides us with.”
“But the chocolate chipped cookies are from Nebula,” Noah protests, and laughter spreads in the room. “They are!”
“They are!” Beth choruses. I doubt that she knows what is happening, but it is good that she defends Noah. The boy gets out of his father’s arms, and goes to sit by Beth. He takes a hold of her hand, and smiles at her. Beth leans into him.
As if ordered, all of us take out our phones, and take a picture. Two toddlers blink furiously in every which direction, blinded by the flashlights. Finally, Beth returns to her senses, and her eyes narrow. She looks straight at me, determined to blame me for this breach of privacy.
“Picture tax!” She yells, and I pull out two coins. Figuring that soon, she will teach Noah all about the picture tax.
Chapter 74:
Dungeon cores 101
Constantine:
The dungeon cores are sentient! I can’t believe that. If they can speak, why are they turning feral? I ask grandpa Tony all those questions, and he turns grim.
“You have to understand, that dungeon cores are crystals. Very rarely, when they have taken over an entire planet, they can exit the crystal, and take on a form. Most of them, though, never reach that point. If you were a crystal, no hands, no tail, no heartbeat, no chance at love, would you have kept your sanity?” He asks me. Put in that context, being a dungeon core really is not something I’d wish on my worst enemy.
“And, there are always more than one dungeon core on a planet?” Daniel asks next to me. I turn to look at him. “I mean, in adventure novels, dungeon hopping is a thing. You can have as many as ten dungeons, in a valley alone.”
“There is much we don’t know about the dungeon cores,” Thea says, and I blink at that. How could they possibly not know? Haven’t they lived in the New Cosmos for more than 100,000 years?
“But you are practically natives over there now,” my mom asks.
“The dungeon cores appeared after we came. If there were any, before that, they were not doing any terraforming, at the very least,” Thea says. Her eyebrows furrow. “It was bad, at the start. We had food, and we were quick to set up our piece buildings, but there was a time, when we thought that air will become a luxury good.”
“Some of us went back to the Cosmos, to refill air tanks for general use,” Antony says, and a hush falls over the table. “We had to be careful not to be noticed, in the first 100 years. The war was raging. As outnumbered as Earth was, it did manage to hold its ground for 150 years.”
I can see that Daniel straightens up at that. I’d be proud too, if someone told me that my planet fought a war that was no fault of their own until the bitter end.
“History is written by the victors,” Daniel murmurs next to me. “It is the same here, as on Earth.”
“Quite right,” Thea says. I can see that her eyes have a sad look in them. What must be like, for her, to have to face a human after all that time, and tell him of the crimes done on his species?
“But let us go back to the dungeons,” Daniel surprises me with those words. If it were me, I’d want to hear more about the war. I suppose he must want to ask when we are in a more private setting. A cool breeze sweeps through the garden, and I can see Beth shivering.
“Perhaps we can have this conversation inside?” I suggest, worrying about the children, and my grandparents.
“Ok, time to clean the table, folks,” mom says, and then everyone picks up their empty plates and glasses, and begins to head towards the door of the house. The sky is a pleasant indigo color; the stars are already twinkling up above. I wonder whether the stars are the same over the New Cosmos. Or, do they shine in a different light? I imagine blue or red stars, as I pick up my own plate and glass.
The plates don’t all fit in the washing machine, so, I place most of them in the sink. The restaurant doesn’t want them back by tomorrow at eight. If I stay up later than usual, I can have a couple of washing rounds, and pack them up in the morning. With that done, I go to the living room.
Everyone has gathered by the couch, with Thea and Tony sitting on it. I can see that they are all staring at the two ancestors. I sit by Daniel, and he begins to speak.
“So, dungeon cores. What happens when they manage to take on a form?” He asks.
“Well, they stop being connected to their cave, abandoned piece building, or whatever crannies they managed to inhabit. As far as I know, they keep their immortality, and life becomes normal for them,” Tony says, dropping a bombshell on us all.
“Dungeon cores are immortal?” I ask, voicing the question on all our minds.
“Well, yes. They are mana spirits; you know?” Tony says, and then looks at Thea. “You always explain it better, shine some light on them.”
“Dungeon cores are immortal, and, as long as their crystals remain whole, they don’t die. Still, that doesn’t protect them from losing their minds,” Thea says, and then sighs. “Which is a shame. There are no better doctors, than dungeon cores. No better farmers, either. And they have the management skills of the Gods.”
“Is the Great Snake of the Sky a dungeon core, granny?” Noah asks. I blink at that. Could it be? Were there any dungeon cores on the Cosmos, too? Were we just a bunch of rocky planets, before them?
“Could be, we are not certain,” Tony says, as he smiles at the boy. “Just because he might be a dungeon core, doesn’t mean that you don’t have to say grace before eating your dinner.”
“That is right,” Hugo says, wrapping his son in a one-armed hug. “You should be grateful for the food our planet provides us with.”
“But the chocolate chipped cookies are from Nebula,” Noah protests, and laughter spreads in the room. “They are!”
“They are!” Beth choruses. I doubt that she knows what is happening, but it is good that she defends Noah. The boy gets out of his father’s arms, and goes to sit by Beth. He takes a hold of her hand, and smiles at her. Beth leans into him.
As if ordered, all of us take out our phones, and take a picture. Two toddlers blink furiously in every which direction, blinded by the flashlights. Finally, Beth returns to her senses, and her eyes narrow. She looks straight at me, determined to blame me for this breach of privacy.
“Picture tax!” She yells, and I pull out two coins. Figuring that soon, she will teach Noah all about the picture tax.
